


Timing it Right

by httpsawesome



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America: The Winter Solider
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Basketball, First Date, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpsawesome/pseuds/httpsawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam really should have went with his first assumption, because asking Steve Rogers on a date couldn't be that easy. Could it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Before the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title "Sam embarrasses himself but Steve still wants him"

"You should come to my game tomorrow." Sam states casually as people jostle around him.

It doesn't take long for Steve to smile back nicely, because he is a nice person, and say "I'd love to, what time?"

And Sam tells him, internally thanking every force in the universe that he thought of this when they were playing against the private school from across town. Their focus is on academics only and SHIELD has won every game against them since the beginning. If the season is particularly rough they usually have this one win.

Alright, beating them wouldn't be the most impressive thing, but winning in general is usually impressive right?

That's why you invite cute boys to your games, to be impressive.

Sam grins and stuffed his hands in his secondhand Air Force hoodie, giving the impression of being cool even though he is anything but. "So I'll see you there cheering for you favorite player?"

"Absolutely, Rumlow needs my support whenever possible." Steve nodded along with a straight face.

"Oh so that's how it is?" Sam asked.

He shrugged. "Hey, once you make that many three pointers it's kinda hard to focus on the other players." But his smirk made it obvious he was just joking.

The bell rang and everyone slowly started making their way to their morning classes. "Whatever you say, Rogers." Sam started walking the hall with Steve, so very thankful that their first periods are close by just so he can talk to him a little more. "You're a smartass, you know that?"

"I've been called worse." He smiled at Sam up with such a genuine smile that could mean something. It probably means something. Sam really wishes he could ask his older sister on how to flirt with a guy but she never had the same interest in them that he did, so he's stuck by himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," Steve started slowly, fiddling with his hands as he tries to sort out his words. "What does it mean - or I guess does it mean something when - you know when someone asks something and it means something else entirely?"

"Steve are you asking me what sarcasm is?" Bucky asked while still trying to balance a pencil on the tip of his finger. "The most sarcastic person I know is asking me when someone is being sarcastic with them?"

"Are you being sarcastic with me?" Steve retorted back.

Bucky dropped his pencil and it rolled under somebody else's desk. It was obvious he wanted to curse but couldn't considering the teacher was still in the room. "It doesn't even sound like a word anymore." He finished dumbly, Steve rolled his eyes and smiled slightly. "So what was it you were asking me?"

Steve took a deep breath. "How do you tell between when someone is nicely asking to hang out as friends and when someone is asking you on a date?" As much as he wanted to fiddle with his hands he wasn't going to that.

Bucky's eyes widened in glee and Steve instantly regretted asking him that stupid question in the first place.

"If you say anything other than the answer I will smack you and you'll have flashbacks of Sister Catherine." Steve cut him off as he opened his mouth.

Bucky shuddered, as if he really was remembering the sting of her ruler on his seven year old knuckles. "Okay, no joking remarks. Not even ones about how you can't just get laid in peace and you need to ask me specifically if you are, in fact, getting laid."

Steve was all for smacking him in the back of his head when -

"Mr. Barnes." Bucky immediately turned his head to Ms. Hill and adopted an apologetic face. Ms. Hill is infamous for being an absolutely terrifying and no-nonsense type of teacher, which makes her very good at her job. She was staring down the both of them with an icy glare that made you feel guilty for even the tiniest mishap.

"I would like you to know that I do have wonderful hearing and I don't appreciate talking during my lessons about things that don't actually relate to school."

"Yes ma'am." Bucky said clearly.

"That goes for the both of you."

"Yes ma'am." Steve echoed a more murmured version of what Bucky said, but he didn't slouch or break eye contact in his embarrassment of being called out.

"Thank you." She turned back around to her board and continued talking about the differences Dante showed at the beginning and at the end of his trip into hell. Having had his fill of disrespecting Ms. Hill's rules (She really didn't deserve it either. He should have asked Bucky about his situation when he was in a shittier class.) he tried to pay attention.

A note fell on his desk from his side. "we'll talk about it later".

If it was from anyone else but Bucky he would be very confused.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So I listened to you and I have never regretted a doing a single thing more than that." Sam said into his phone, muffled by his pillow.

"That's impossible," Natasha responded "I would never tell you anything that is regrettable." A loud crunch is heard, then Natasha is back sounding more muffled than before.

"What are you mistakenly regretting?"

"Are you eating while I'm trying to mope to you?" Sam asked like he was personally insulted.

"It's only chips. And I was eating before you called so suck it up. Now back to my original statement." She eats another chip and she at least moves the speaker a few inches away. How considerate.

"The one time you plant an idea in my head that's not gonna be beneficial to me and I actually followed through with it." He scrunched his eyes tightly and shoved his head farther into the pillow.

"I know I already asked this but what was this terrible idea?"Another crunch. 

"Asking Steve Rogers on a date." Sam mumbled.

The next sounds could only be described as Natasha closing the bag of chips and pushing them away. 

"Did he say no?"

"No." He stated. "He said yes."

"Okay," Natasha said, like she knew exactly what was going on. "And now you regret it because you're so sure something is going to go terrible and he's going to drop it like its hot." So she did know everything that's going on.

"Please don't ever say 'drop it like its hot' ever again. That phrase left along with the 90's"

"I'm pretty sure it came from the early 2000's, but if you want me to use more modern phrases I could start saying 'turn up'." Sam laughed loud enough that it could probably be heard from the other room at the image of his terrifying but wonderful Russian friend using phrases that never should have existed in the first place. In the back of his mind he can imagine Nat smirking like some not-so-secret plan of hers ended successfully. 

She waited until his laughter calmed down, the least she could do.

"Don't sweat yourself about hypothetical situations. Just imagine how Steve is going to be sweating himself after watching you play."

"Was that an innuendo?"

"Yes." 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Bucky jumped, crossed his legs in mid air, and landed on Steve's bed with a small whoomph. "Tell me all about your date." 

"Don't you have homework to do?" Steve avoided his question smoothly as he pulled off his backpack. 

Bucky huffed. "Homework can wait, this is more important."

"Is it?" Steve quirkier his eyebrows. 

"Yes it is and you're not going to slither out of talking about this. Who asked you what in the first place?" Bucky continued to sit like a child waiting for a story. Steve would laugh if he wasn't focused on how he shouldn't have started this in the first place. 

He sighed. "Okay," he sat on his desk chair near the front of his bed. He vaguely feels like he's the main character in a cheesy romcom and this scene is used to establish the background platonic relationships. Or maybe an indie movie. All depending on lighting really. "So Sam Wilson asked me to go to his basketball game tomorrow." 

"Like 'LGBT club member' Sam Wilson? 'Gap-toothed but it's cute and you hardly notice it Bucky' Sam Wilson? 'He's really nice and likes birds a lot' Sam Wilson? -" 

"Yes." Steve deadpanned loudly. "That Sam Wilson." He at least has the dignity to not look down in his lap. "I don't even talk about him that much."

Bucky looked at with a 'that is such bullshit and I'm judging you look' that finally made Steve break eye contact and look down bashfully. "So what's the problem?" Bucky asked, "Because your crush asking you to a game doesn't sound like a problem to me." 

He sighed "I don't know, it's just - it was stupid. Really stupid."

"Of course it was, I didn't expect anything less." Bucky smirked.

"You're an ass." Steve threw a pen that his friend dodged easily, with the original smirk growing. He wasn't really insulted, and it showed how he was smiling along with him. "I was going to ask if I was seeing things."

Sam could have easily meant it 'as friends' instead of 'date' like he first assumed. Until he started questioning himself, questioning Sam. "Because I could be getting, you know, mixed signals . . . " he let the sentence trail off.

Sometime while Steve was talking Bucky started absentmindedly massaging his shoulder, where his prosthetic arm connected. "You should take it off," Steve gestured to his arm "you've been wearing it all day."

Bucky nodded and moved to strip off his jacket. Steve is one of the few people he's comfortable enough with to be around without his arm. Most of the time he needs to be reminded to go without even in Steve's presence, like now. 

It wasn't long before Bucky was sitting with an empty sleeve, but no less persistant about having this conversation. "Let me tell you his strategy. It's something I did when I used to play baseball." Which wasn't that long ago, from little league to the beginning of high school. He says he quit because it was really only a hobby to him, and he didn't want to stick with it and replace someone who was serious about it. At first Steve wasn't sure if he completely believed him, thought it had more to do with the accident in middle school (drunk driver, Bucky lost his father and arm) until he saw his secret stash laungauge books and realized there's at least a little truth in the statement. 

"I would invite a girl to a game, because who wouldn't end up liking me more after seeing me sweaty, in tight pants, and sexy uniform?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Anyone sensible and with a sense of smell." He deadpanned "Oh that's cold," Bucky put his right hand over heart. "I'd be more hurt if I didn't know you're using sarcasm to cover up the fact that not even you can resist super-suction baseball pants." 

Steve threw a paper ball at his face. 

He laughed "Okay, okay serious now. There was no way this is mixed signals, I know for a fact. He's interested in you. He's smart like that." 

Steve let the words flow through them until he was looking down into his lap and trying to hide his smile. Bucky smiled to himself too.

"Now we have to go cliche and pick you out an outfit. Even though he wouldn't give a fuck what you're wearing as long as you're there."


	2. During the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a very short chapter, I understand. I am also a very slow writer, that is also understand. 
> 
> Apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> duh duh DUHHHHHH!!!!

Friday's night game came with Steve sitting in the bleachers, sitting next to a family on his side and an empty space on the other. It's not an important game, necessarily, so the only people are here are the ones here for someone. Parent, sibling, friend. Or date. 

"Hey," Steve turns to follow the noise, and he sees a woman with red hair and chewing gum. She pops a bubble before saying something else. "Can I sit there?" She nods to his side.

Instead of saying 'most of the bleachers are empty everywhere else' he just thinks it and says "Yeah," 

She gracefully stepped down and took the spot, slightly turned to him so she could speak. "I'd start the introduction but I already know who you are, so I'll just say that I'm Natasha."

He blinked. "May I ask how you know me, if you don't mind?" He phrased his words carefully because in the ten seconds he had known her, he knew she was not one to get on the bad side of. He was starting to warm up to her.

She smirked slightly, "I'm a friend of Sam, he talks about you a lot." She spreads her feet out on the bleacher in front of her and leans down behind her, effectually taking up three rows. "So much so that I was able to guess exactly who you are, which is pretty cool of me I think."

Steve chooses to not mention the last part. "He does?" He tries to sound casual about it but he is sure he couldn't sound any more interested and un-casual about it if he wanted to.

"Yep. He likes your bangs." She said lightly. "Says they're very cute."

Instinctually he reached up to push them out of his face. It's a habit he has had for years. "Yeah like that," Natasha continued "I have to threaten to punch him if he wouldn't shut up about it. And of course that is not all he has to say about you."

Oh. Steve looked away and smiled to himself. He honestly didn't expect something like this, but it isn't unwelcome. "I'm not cute." He had to at least try to protect his meager reputation, even though the only things he's 'protecting' is the fact that if he didn't say that, than he's agreeing, and he most certainly will never agree to be called cute. Sam Wilson is well on his way to becoming an exception to that though.

Natasha smirked and quirked an eyebrow, like she expected him to say that, before straighting up and looking down onto the court. "They're coming out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam didn't want to look out into the crowd as soon as he came out, in case Steve _didn't_ come out and he ends up feeling like an idiot, thus going into a mood and throwing the game. It wasn't until halftime that he caved.

The game had a great start, and Sam was feeling good. Everyone on his team was doing great, completely confident that they were going to win. And he's in the same boat. They're up 5-0, and his plan on wooing Steve is most definitely going to work out in the end. (If he's even here of course.) 

And he knows that it must sound completely fake, but it's his thoughts and he is allowed to think about all his insecurities in the safe confines of his mind. Besides, not even all of it is fake. It's not like he thinks they'll _lose_ , not against them. The other team have a mythologically creature with three pathetic looking heads as a mascot, how could he really think they'll lose?

By now he really doesn't have an excuse to not look out into the crowd, or at least none that he wants to admit out loud. So he does.

There are truly very little people out there, and almost all are parents. He sees Steve almost immediately, sitting next to Nat as she's taking about three seats worth of space. For a second he worries he's going to have to move across the world and change his identity from whatever she told Steve, but then he perks up and waves excitedly at Sam and gives a thumbs up, and he decides he can live with whatever she told him.

He feels rejuvenated once he gets back in the game. He's pumped and he's going to win this harder than they were currently doing. He's gonna -

He's gonna trip and fall on his face in the middle of the court.

Fantastic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve felt Natasha jerk up beside him as he looked as far out into the court as he could. Sam's accident put the game on hold for a short time and he was out to assert damage.

"Is he okay?" Steve asked, knowing that Natasha knew as much as him. She just shrugged without looking away from the door Sam had disappeared to.

He really hopes he's okay.


	3. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slow writer and I am not going to apologize for it. But this is finally done and next I shall try to endeavor in the one a day meet cutes.

Rules stated that Sam had to be taken out for the remainder of the game, which also had to be paused so any and all blood on the court caused by any injury could be mopped up.

Even if there isn't any blood on the court they have to stop playing and mop it up.

Schrödinger's Blood. 

He is pretty bruised, despite the lack of actual fluids. His cheek hurts like hell and he is going to have problems eating if his jaw doesn't stop stinging by the next few days. But it isn't a big deal. His confidence feels like it was hit by a truck, but physically he's fine.

it's not - he just really embarrassed. It's not a big deal, and it is just something that happens and considering how unimportant it really was, people aren't going to hold it over his head like he's the reason they're not going to the finals or something like that. As he watches the janitors continue to mop the floor and the rest of his team sit next to him on the benches, he just grows more embarrassed as time goes on. 

His team mates all had asked him how he's feeling; from a range of all mother types triple-checking that he's not seriously hurt, to a few people cracking jokes about it, which are sincerely funny and lets him laugh about it. Hell, even the water boy Parker had asked if he's alright. It really doesn't help him trying to forget that it happened, but it does make him feel like they have his back, so not all bad.

Well, all except Rumlow. He didn't spare a glance at Sam, just glared angrily over the court like it completely fucked up his day. He didn't look at anyone other than that same spot that still being cleaned, and glared. Whatever, he's always been a shitty team player and as great as he is, Sam isn't going to let him make him feel worse than he already does.

\------

Natasha looked on nonchalantly, "He's fine, Rogers."

"I know that." He insisted as he craned his neck to see over the crowd.

"He's not even bleeding." She smirked at him, but he didn't turn around to see. 

"That's good." Steve murmured absentmindedly.

"His nose is probably sore, so be careful when you dramatically kiss him as the crowd cheers on." 

"I'll be sure to remember that." He still didn't look over at her, and she genuinely smiled in amusement.

"You must really be lovestruck," Natasha remarked. "He's capturing your attention away from my jokes just by existing. You probably spend your free time writing 'Mr. Sam Rogers' in the margins of your work."

"Sometimes I write 'Mr. Steve Wilson' when I want to mix things up." He finally turned around and smirked at her. "And don't pretend like you weren't about to run off the bleachers to triple check that he is actually fine."

She was quiet a for second, before slowly growing a smile and realize that she may have underestimated him.

\------

They won, in the end. Which was exactly as expected.

Rumlow is extra prickly, which wasn't exactly expected at the start but wasn't a surprise.

Sam is going to have to talk to Steve probably. That was expected but now is slightly less anticipated than at the start.

\------

His mom came to the game, but not his sisters. They come when they're free or when it is a important game. Neither of those things were true, but he knew beforehand.

His mother had asked him  _(everyone is asking him_ _)_ if he was still in pain, or wanted anything, but backed off after a while. She's cool like that.

Sam turned towards the bleachers and saw Steve walking off with Natasha, both walking in his direction. He held his arms at a sheepish angle and tried to think of something he can say that would sound cool.

"Hey mom," Natasha hugged Ms. Wilson. (She's called her mom for years now, despite the fact that she isn't her mom in anything but spirit.)

"Hey sweetie. Who's this?" She gestured towards Steve, who adopted some sort of 'parents like me' respectable stance. "I'm Steve Rogers, ma'am."

She blinked, then smiled. The stance worked. "No need to call me ma'm, I know enough about you from this one - " She pointed a thumb in Sam's direction, who was too dignified to sputter. (Lies)

Steve blinked, and smiled as his cheeks turned red.

"We were just about to go out and get dinner. You're free to join us if you can. I'd love to hear about you from you, instead of Sam."

Steve agreed as Sam exclaimed 'mom!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Schrödinger's Blood' was a reference to the theory Schrödinger's Cat, which states that if the box is closed we can not be certain that there is not, in fact, a cat inside. 
> 
> You could always shake the box but that might hurt the said possibly-nonexistent-cat.


End file.
